


The Ghost of Nevivon

by radishleaf



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Meet-Cute, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, makes sense toward the end of the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishleaf/pseuds/radishleaf
Summary: Local legend speaks of a haunted maiden who stalks the misty fields of Nevivon, wailing from mysteries unknown. When reports of such a specter spook a boy under Lilinka's care, Portia goes to investigate, only to find the legend to be true—and less ghostly than expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i read a really depressing fic, so i decided to work on something somewhat wholesome featuring my favorite character from the arcana: portia! i use a different apprentice idea when i play portia's route, going by the name teagan merlose. you can get a general idea of what she looks like here: [plonk](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13960320_wmD5zQqFYIhNgl5.jpg?1564188155). (ignoring the name/description, since i've reworked her character).
> 
> this may clash somewhat if more of portia's backstory is revealed in her route, as it appears the apprentice and her didn't know each other before they were called to the palace. nevertheless, this is my canon for my apprentice, even if some liberties were taken. this is all forgotten when the teagan is resurrected, of course. 
> 
> as always, kindly disregard any grammatical errors, punctuation mistakes, and the like. i tried to be thorough. enjooooy.

Portia’s brow knit together as she swept the same pile of refuse and dust back and forth, making no progress in her cleaning as she lingered with worry. Ever since Lilinka came down with a springtime cold, Portia took it upon herself to foot her duties until she was better. A week had passed since she was bedridden, and before long, Portia came to understand just a smidgen of what she put the poor woman through.

Between the innumerable number of chores that paled in comparison to what Lilinka asked of her, there was also the endless worries that came with her charges. Since Julian and Portia had reached young adulthood, they could take care of themselves—well, only one of them. Julian still proved to be a troublemaker, and got into as much messes as the other children Lilinka took on as her wards. It’d been a few days still Portia had last heard from him, brimming her with worry.

 _Ilya is too impulsive, too foolhardy,_ Portia thought as she leaned her weight onto the broom. _He must’ve gotten himself caught up in some kind of trouble. No, I_ know _he did! T-that idiot!_

Portia felt inclined to stew in her own thoughts had a crunching noise not pulled her mind from them. Jerking her head in the direction of the window, her inkling that it was Julian was dashed aside when she saw a little hand claw its way under the edge of the window and push it up. The paint dried along the pane made it difficult, however. The redhead narrowed her eyes at those clever fingers as they crept toward the bunch of bananas sat in a bowl to the left. Considering they were a gift from Mazelinka, there was no way she was going to let Macon sneak off with her favorite fruit.

Readying her broom, Portia tracked Macon’s hand, before giving it a sharp thump with the tip. The boy yelped before bouncing up, glaring at her through the half-open window. “Hey, w-what was that for?!” he cried, hand gripped around the throbbing red mark. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“ _Yet_ ,” Portia said, shifting hands to hips. “If you wanted a banana, you could’ve asked, Macon. You didn’t have to sneak off with one.”

“I-I don’t care about your damn bananas! Just let me inside!” Macon snapped back as he shoved the window open fully and hooked a leg over the ledge.

Portia frowned at his tone, but her face fell quizzically when he tumbled to the floor upon clambering it. The boy began to tremble, eyes darting up to the window, as if terrified of something. Concern flooded Portia’s chest as she went to him, bending low to his height to whisper to him soothingly. It took a long beat for him to calm, but eventually, Macon appeared open to any questions the redhead might’ve had.

“What’s gotten into you, Macon?” Portia asked. “Did something happen?”

Macon swallowed thickly. “I-I saw a ghost!” he cried.

“You saw _what?_ A ghost? What’re you talking about?”

Macon pushed himself up. “I mean it, I saw a ghost! You know the legend of the wailing maiden, right? The one that comes out on misty nights?”

Portia nodded her head. “Yea, I’ve heard of it. Who hasn’t?”

“Well, I saw her! I was playing out by the hills when I saw this figure in the mist. I followed it because I was curious. She had to be the wailing maiden, right? So, I follow her and follow her, and she leads me to this rickety shack in the middle of nowhere. Like, on the outskirts of Nevivon.”

Portia frowned. “You know it’s dangerous to go out that far, Macon! You were told to stay in the fields!”

“Yea, yea! I know, but let me continue!” Macon said. “So, like, I go to check out the shack, and guess what? I saw her! She was real! All wild-haired and pale and _creepy!_ ” A shiver passed through Macon. “I rushed out of there before she could catch me, but I definitely saw a ghost!”

Portia pursed her lips. “And you came here because…?”

“I just had to tell you, Pasha,” Macon said. “I know you’re super interested in ghosts and stuff, so I wanted you to be the first I told.”

Portia huffed, reaching forward to cuff Macon on the back of the head. The boy grunted in pain, glaring at her, as she tut-tutted him. “That doesn’t excuse you from going against Lilinka’s wishes to stay in the fields. Once she hears word of this, she’s going to be incredibly upset.”

Macon ducked his head. “I was curious! You totally would’ve followed the ghost too if you were in my position!”

“No, I would’ve obeyed what Lilinka asked of me.”

“W-whatever.” Macon shifted to his feet and turned toward the window, climbing back through it. “You’re not Lilinka, so you shouldn’t be the one to scold me.” He stuck his tongue out as Portia. “ _Ugly!_ ”

“Oh, you…!” Portia launched toward the window, grabbing at Macon to no avail. The boy was too swift; skedaddling out of there before the redhead gave him a good pummeling. Shaking her fist at his back, Portia cried, “Yea, you better run!”

Portia withdrew herself from the window, grabbing at the broom she placed aside. She vented her recent frustrations from Macon through some thorough cleaning. The anger left her quickly when she tired herself out, replaced with gnawing curiosity. She couldn’t agree in the moment, but Macon was right—if Portia were in his position, she too would’ve followed the ghost. She was superstitious to a fault, much to her chagrin.

 _I mean, I am kind of curious… What if he really_ did _see a ghost?_ Portia thought. _Or it might a person. W-whatever the case, I should go check it out. Confirm it isn’t someone—or something—dangerous._

Portia departed Lilinka’s for the hills outside Nevivon after dinner. She was glad to not have to explain herself to Lilinka; after all, how could she when even she thought what she was doing was stupid? Night had already fallen over the area, darkening any bodies to mere silhouettes. In tandem with the misty fog that hung about the area from the recent rains, it was difficult for Portia to discern what was in front of her. The flame of a lantern did little to light the way as Portia aimlessly wandered.

 _Ugh, this was so stupid of me,_ Portia thought as she carefully chose her steps. _I-I should’ve come during the day! I can’t see a thing!_

Before long, Portia chanced upon a dirt road that curved off into the outskirts of Nevivon. Swallowing down her fear, Portia followed it for a short distance before coming across a rickety shack at the end. Without a doubt, considering its distance from the city, it had to be the place Macon spoke of. It was an unstable-looking thing; constructed from darkened, rotting wood that sagged under the weight of its own roof. It looked as though a single passing gale could send it crashing down on its support, despite standing strong against the light wind that breezed through the area.

Portia rounded the shack’s perimeter, curiously peeking into every nook and cranny for signs of a ghost. Despite how her heart raced in her chest, she was terribly excited. Ghost hunting was one of her favorite pastimes as a kid, and even in the present, that was still the case. To Portia, nothing compared to spooky things—especially when one was standing right in front of her.

Portia’s eyes widened to the whites as her mind registered a figure some distance away near the front of the shack. The light of her lantern barely illuminated a pale garment and wild hair before Portia dropped it, snuffing the light. Left to her own devices in the dark, Portia tentatively drew one step, then another, then another, as a scream dared to rip from her throat.

Just as Portia was about to turn and hightail it out of there, the ghost lurched forward, grabbing the redhead by her wrist. Portia screamed until her throat felt raw, only quieting when the ghost began to shush her. At once, she quieted; wasn’t that something a little _too_ human for a ghost to do? Peering closer at them, it was then Portia realized it wasn’t a ghost at all—it was a person. In particular, a young human woman.

Standing just above Portia’s height, she could discern pale blue eyes under the matted, frizzy hair. The dirty hand that clutched her wrist was a ghostly pale, but still suffused with blood of the living as Portia felt a pulse beat against her own. The woman released her grip on Portia to sneak her hand back under her garment, which only now Portia could tell to be a tattered bedsheet.

“P-please, don’t be afraid,” said a gentle voice. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Portia’s lips parted to say something, but her initial fear choked back any words. She only managed a stiff nod, allowing the woman to continue.

“You’re probably here about him, right? That boy?” The woman’s brows drew up dolefully. “I didn’t mean to scare him. Honest. I was worried seeing him scope out my home, thinking he might need help, but he ran off before I could have a word with him. I hope I didn’t anger you.”

Portia flashed her palms innocently. “O-oh, no! No, it’s okay. He, uh, Macon, he wasn’t supposed to be out here, anyway. I’m sorry if he caused you any trouble.”

The woman shook her head. “No, he didn’t. And I extend the same apology to you; I didn’t mean to bring his mother out here to check on a misunderstanding.”

“M-mother?” Portia blinked. “You think I’m his mother?”

The woman tilted her head. “Aren’t you?”

“N-no! I mean, no. No, I’m not his mother. That would be Lilinka. She’s like a mother to all of us.”

The woman’s attention perked at the mention of that name. “I see,” she said. “If it helps clear the air, my name is Teagan Merlose. I’ve been living in this shack here”—she cocked her chin at it—“for the past month. Despite the circumstances, it’s nice to meet you…?”

“Portia. Portia Devorak.”

“Then it’s nice to meet you, Portia.”

Portia smiled at Teagan. The tension once palpable in the air diminished, leaving a friendly, cordial atmosphere for the two to speak. Despite the misunderstanding and the woman’s undeniably creepy appearance, she had a pleasant tone to her, making her very easy to talk to. She certainly piqued Portia’s interest more than the idea that she was a ghost.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Portia said, “why are you living here? Wouldn’t you fair better renting a room in town?”

“I-I can’t exactly… afford it,” Teagan said. “If it wasn’t evident, well, I’m homeless.” She gave a little shrug. “And I travel often. So, when I chanced upon a place that could provide a roof over my head, I took it. It doesn’t cost anything to stay here, after all.”

Portia gasped. To hear Teagan’s reasoning for wanting to stay in such a dilapidated and structurally unsound place made her heart swell with pity. She reached out and clutched Teagan’s hand hard in her own, feeling her skin jump from the unexpected gesture.

“There’s no way I can just let you _stay_ here,” Portia said, lips tugged down in a concerned frown. “You, you can come stay with us! At Lilinka’s! Until you’re back on your feet!”

“Ah…” Teagan’s lips parted, speechless, before she began to shake her head. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“You wouldn’t be,” Portia said, beaming. She turned about and began half-leading, half-dragging Teagan away from the shack and down the road. Despite how dark it was, the light from the waxing moon provided some illumination, making the trek back somewhat easier. “You’d be a guest, and Lilinka and I treat guests right. So, you don’t have to worry at all!”

Teagan smiled. “A-all right, then,” she said. “Lead the way. Er, I mean, you already are, but I’m following.”


	2. Chapter 2

With a hefty kick, the door to Lilinka’s home was forced ajar, cracking against the opposing wall. Mazelinka trudged her way in, arms brimming with all manner of sundries, medicines, and gifts. “Ilya! Pasha!” she called, voice loud enough to rattle the home’s interior. “Lilinka! Where’re you? I heard my dear is sick! _Hey!”_

Yet, her reply was met with silence. She sniffed with mild annoyance as her eyes scanned across the area before dropping down to something curled on the front room’s rug. There, upon the floor, lay a bushy pile of brown. At first, Mazelinka thought it to be a dog, a smile almost gracing her lips when her mind crossed over Portia’s tendency to bring home strays. But when the figure stirred, rising to her with a human face, she backpedaled from a start.

“Yipes!” she cried, items clattering to the floor. “T-the hell? Who in good heavens are _you?_ ”

Just then, Portia emerged from the bathroom, wringing her hands free of water. She halted in the doorway, speechless as she exchanged glances between a weary Teagan on the floor and a frightened Mazelinka. The redhead’s face paged across a myriad of expressions; from mirth to seeing the pirate come home safely from another adventure to uncertainty from having to explain her new charge. 

Mazelinka appeared ahead of her, however, as she shook a dismissive hand. “Never mind explaining now,” she said, hip cracking as she scooped up what she dropped. “You’ve got someone to take care of, yea?”

Portia nodded her head hastily. “Y-yea! Uh, Teagan? I just drew a bath for you, if you want to use it…”

Her wild bushel of hair bounced as she nodded to Portia. “Okay,” Teagan said. “Thank you.”

Teagan pushed herself up with a grunt, giving a small twist to her back before following Portia into the bathroom. She spared only a single glance to Mazelinka, who regarded her with a cordial smile despite the previous happenings. Portia, despite internally grimacing, was relieved Mazelinka hadn’t asked about Teagan—yet.

Though it offered the simplest of amenities, the bath drew a bright smile to Teagan’s lips. She sighed contentedly as a refreshing waft of steam hit her face. Portia beamed behind her, glad to provide something for the woman. Since they arrived at Lilinka’s home late in the night, Portia thought it unbecoming to do anything then, and got right to work in the morning drawing water for Teagan.

Portia motioned to a set of soaps and shampoos near the lipped tub. “I put these here out for you. I wasn’t sure if you were sensitive to any scents or whatever, so feel free to use any you like. Also—”

The redhead couldn’t produce another word as Teagan, without provocation, dropped the bedsheet she once wore. Scarlet flooded Portia’s freckled cheeks as Teagan spared not another moment more slipping into the bath, sighing again as she sank into its warm depths. At once, Portia made a face-heel turn and headed for the door, mind distressed with embarrassment as she couldn’t believe _what_ she’d just seen.

 _I-I mean, I didn’t see anything! J-just the bare skin of her hip, but… but… I can’t believe she_ just _did that!_

“Portia?”

The redhead’s hand barely touched the doorknob before she halted in her haste, blush spreading to her ears. Daring to not turn around, she said, “Y-yea?”

Portia heard the water stir as Teagan said, “Could you help me wash my hair? I can’t reach the back.”

She desperately wanted to say no, she _should’ve_ said no, but in the next moment, Portia found herself carding trembling fingers through Teagan’s fallow locks. Water alone worked its magic on her hair; loosing the knots and making it manageable. Though it would still appear wild and unruly once it dried, Teagan now actually looked human, and not like a specter of the night.

Portia’s gaze lingered on the bare skin of Teagan’s shoulder. It was difficult to imagine that the brunette was once caked head to toe in dust and grime. A single bath washed away all remnants of her homelessness. This one thought brought a smile back to Portia’s face.

 _At least I had a chance to do one thing for her,_ Portia thought. _No one deserves to have lived like she did._

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a warm bath,” Teagan said, lathering up a bar of soap and running it across her arm. “In fact, I can’t remember the last time I’ve had one.”

Portia reached for one of the shampoos and began to work it at Teagan’s ends, pulling at any knots painlessly. The tension once stiffening her dissipated come the brunette’s conversational quip as Portia asked, “How long have you been traveling?”

Teagan hummed in thought. “To be honest, I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t remember a lot of things, and I forget easily.”

“Why’s that?”

Teagan laughed. “Honestly? I’ve forgotten the reason for that, as well.”

“Then, you have amnesia?”

“I guess so.”

Portia furrowed her brow. “But you sound so… so _lucid_.”

“Lucid?”

“Yea. Shouldn’t you be confused? Or scared? Or weary? Or, or… I don’t know, something else besides how… How _lax_ you’re coming across?”

Teagan turned to her, giving her a strained smile. Portia reddened again, averting her eyes to the opalescent swirls and bubbles of the bathwater. “I know it’s suspicious, but I’m being honest, Portia. I don’t remember a thing besides bits and pieces. Why?” She gave a shrug. “I don’t know. That’s the most I can tell you.”

Portia wanted to press her for answers, but the awkwardness of the moment had her drawing back. “T-that’s fine,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pressure you.”

“It’s fine.”

Portia felt guilty for asking, but she couldn’t deny the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. She desperately wanted to trust Teagan, to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she found it strange. It was as if the brunette was _content_ not remembering—like shrugging off a comment that would’ve weaseled its way under one’s skin if their forbearance was weaker.

Glancing to Teagan, Portia pursed her lips. If that was the case, then Portia admired her tenacity. The idea of forgetting so simply bothered her. Memories served a purpose—no matter how unfortunate, how saddening, how joyful, how exciting. Portia knew there were many that thought otherwise, but she deigned to agree with them.

As if reading her mind, Teagan said, “Honestly, there’s some peace in forgetting. I’m not troubled, as odd as that is to say. Though, the are things I don’t want to forget—like your kindness.” Portia blinked at Teagan, flustering when the brunette slid a wet hand over hers. “You’re the first person who has ever been so kind to me.”

“Uh—I-I—well—um—”

Suddenly, Teagan scooted closer to twine arms about Portia’s neck, pulling her into a tight embrace. Portia imagined steam whistling out her ears from how deep she blushed; trying to no avail to forget that only one of them was clothed. Unconsciously, her hands hovered as if to return the brunette’s hug. Yet, since Teagan was _naked,_ she assuaged this dilemma by holding her hands out at her sides, as she wasn’t sure _where_ to put them.

“Thank you,” Teagan said warmly beside her ear. “You’re a good person, Portia. I just wanted to tell you that.”

Portia gulped. “T-thank… Thank you?” she said as Teagan withdrew. “I’m going… I’m going to go. Um. And leave you to your bath. If you need anything, just call.”

Teagan dipped her head at Portia, turning away. “Will do,” she said.

Portia scuttled out of the bathroom before gently closing the door shut behind her. At once, she collapsed against the door, hands smoothing roughly down her face. Even if her list of embarrassing moments went on for miles and miles, _that_ had to take the number one spot. Nothing she experienced before could even compare.

Portia hadn’t a moment to collect her bearings; Mazelinka emerged from Lilinka’s quarters, raising a quizzical brow at Portia when her blush refused to fade. The pirate flashed her a toothy grin as she moved onto the sofa of the front room, saying, “Had a little fun in there with your new friend, huh?”

Portia paled. “N-no!” she cried. “No, Mazelinka! _No!_ W-we just talked! We didn’t—”

Mazelinka gave a barking laugh. “Oh, I know, Pasha. I know. You’re too green for that kind of thing.”

The redhead huffed as she settled into the space beside her. “Don’t joke like that! You nearly gave me a heart attack…”

“Heart attack? For Pete’s sake, _she_ nearly gave me one this morning! As if I should come in expecting someone sleeping on the floor…”

“A-ah, sorry about that. She said she preferred the floor; been sleeping on it for so long, a bed felt uncomfortable.”

Mazelinka studied Portia. “Are you going to explain her,” she said, motioning to the bathroom door, “or do I have to ask? Can’t deny I’m curious, Pasha.”

Portia rubbed the back of her neck. “Erm, well… Her name’s Teagan and she’s a homeless woman Macon confused to be the wailing ghost.”

“Hmph, that child… What a wild imagination he has.”

“Yea…” Portia didn’t add she sort of believed him, too. If only to save face in front of Mazelinka. “I-I mean, I’m kind of to blame for bringing her here, though. When she told me she was living in a shack, I-I just… I just grabbed her hand and said she could come home with me. Live here for a while until she was back on her feet. It’s only now I realize how dumb that was of me.”

Mazelinka shook her head, tut-tutting. “You, Devoraks… _Never_ thinking before acting.”

Portia leaned forward, cupping her face in her hands. “I know, I know. Especially when I don’t know a thing about her besides her name nor what to do with her.”

Mazelinka hummed, nodding her head. “Just goes to show you how much heart you have.”

“M-Mazelinka…”

She reached forward and cupped Portia’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “This is all a trite sudden and all, but I know you brought her in with good intentions, Pasha. To me, that’s more than enough. So, we’re going to do right by her and hold you to your word—since she’s going to live here, we should make her feel like home.”

Portia released a bedraggled breath. “Right,” she said, giving Mazelinka a steadfast nod. “You’re right. This home is now hers, too. We’ll give her the hospitality she deserves.”

Both women’s heads turned in the direction of the bathroom as Teagan poked her head out, hair dipping water in the threshold. “Um, sorry. I don’t mean to interrupt, but Portia, I-I don’t have anything to wear. Could you lend me some clothes?”

Mazelinka threw her head back and have a hearty laugh as Portia’s sensibilities dissolved into a puddle of goo, forced to deal with a naked Teagan once again. Launching to her feet, the redhead darted for her room, stuttering, “J-just give me a moment!” as she passed.

Left to their own devices, Teagan gave Mazelinka a sheepish smile. “Hi, nice to meet you,” she said, “I’m Teagan.”

“As I’ve been told,” Mazelinka said, eyes flicking to Portia’s room before coming to rest on the brunette again. “Portia’s told me the gist. Name’s Mazelinka.”

“U-um!” Portia snapped her head in the direction of Mazelinka as she carefully walked in the direction of Teagan, hands outstretched with a few articles of clothing. “These should work, I hope?”

Teagan smiled, retrieving the bundle from her. “Yes, this should work just fine. Thank you,” she said before disappearing back into the bathroom.

Mazelinka grinned at Portia, saying, “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, Pasha. You’re both women.”

Portia’s hands caught the crown of her head. “I-I know,” she mumbled. “I _know_ that, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing!”


	3. Chapter 3

Portia let out a groan as Mazelinka continued to test her patience. Every single time the woman ladled her a bowl of soup to take to Lilinka, she’d yank it out of the redhead’s hands, give it a taste, before huffing and spooning her a new serving sprinkled with some more seasoning or just slightly warmer.

They’d been at it for the last fifteen minutes, even drawing Teagan’s curious stare from behind the sofa. She had remained quiet under the pretense she should wait for the others to be served first, but the delicious scents wafting from the kitchen had her stomach growling for food. Portia only shot her a pained look before turning her attention back to the stubborn Mazelinka; she felt the exact same way, and likely, so did Lilinka.

“Oh, c’mon! What’s wrong with it _this_ time?” Portia drawled. “It’s good enough, Mazelinka!”

The pirate tut-tutted her, waving her wooden spoon about. “Don’t you start, girl,” she said. “I only want the best for my Lilinka.”

“Then _you_ be the one to take it to her.”

“Can’t. She said she’s tired of me kissing her up, said I might catch her cold.” She sniffled. “Too late for that, but once she’s cross, it takes a bit for her to settle down. It’s why I’m sending you in my stead. Plus,” she cocked her head at Teagan, who ducked behind the sofa, “you’ve yet to explain her to Lilinka, right?”

Portia prodded her forefingers together. “I was _going_ to,” she said, “but Lilinka was sleeping, and I didn’t want to make Teagan nervous, and then _you_ came by and—”

“Excuses, Pasha. _Excuses._ ” Portia winced when she expected Mazelinka to bap her with the wooden spoon, but she simply waved it in her direction. “You’re going to sit down and have a good long talk with my sweet, all right?” She shoved a new bowl of soup in her hands. “She deserves to know.”

“Okay, okay,” Portia said as she turned on her heel with the soup in tow, only to swivel back around to Mazelinka. “A-actually, maybe you should check this soup out aga—”

“ _Go!_ ”

Mazelinka’s booming voice went off like a cannon, sending Portia with great haste into Lilinka’s room. A long strip of steam marked her path, before billowing up steadily before the redhead’s face. Inside of her caretaker’s quarters, the air was warm, though uncomfortably stagnant. Portia had tried many times to open a window, but Lilinka requested her not to, if only for Macon’s sake. “The boy would try to check on me,” she said. “I don’t want him catching what I have; he’s fussy when he’s sick.”

“Lilinka?” Portia called gently when she glanced to the bed. The blanketed lump rose up and down softly. “Hey, are you awake?”

When no response was given, Portia gave a sigh of relief, and turned back to the door, but a groan started her to a stop. Tentatively, she looked over her shoulder to see Lilinka rise from the several blankets and pillows of her bed like a mermaid from the great depths. Her round face was pale and puffy, accentuated by dark bags and greasy hair pulled back into a bun. Portia deigned to approach her, but knew she had no choice now that Lilinka knew she was there.

“Lilinka? Hey, how’re you feeling?” Portia asked.

“Mm, like absolute hell, dear,” Lilinka said, her tone raspy. She sniffed the air, looking into Portia’s hands. “Is that Mazelinka’s soup I smell?”

Portia smiled placidly. “Mhm, she made it just for you.” She offered her the bowl, and Lilinka sat up to take it obligingly. “She spent all morning trying to get it right. Took about six bowls before she sent me off with one perfect for you.”

“Bah, that dunderhead,” Lilinka said, spooning some soup into her mouth. “It’s not like I can taste it.”

“Is your cold that bad?”

“I’m in the thick of it, yes. Haven’t been sick like this for a while, but I’m hoping to get better soon.”

“I’m sure you will, Lilinka. You’re strong.”

“As strong as this old body and bones can hold, I am. I’m not young anymore, that’s for sure.”

Portia laughed. “You sound like Mazelinka.”

Lilinka rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t let up on reminding me. “You’re an old crone, you old crone! Take better care of yourself!” I didn’t have the heart to tell her she’s an old crone, too.”

“She’s young at heart.”

Lilinka scoffed. “That means nothing when time’s got you in its clutches.”

Portia gave her a strained smile. “Well, um, I’m going to leave you to your soup, okay? Get some more rest. If you need anything—”

“Ah, ah, Pasha. Not so fast.” Lilinka cocked her chin to the edge of the bed. “Sit. We’ve got something to discuss.”

The redhead’s insides fell. There was no doubt Mazelinka passed on word of Teagan’s stay in her home, even if she only framed it as Portia’s sudden guest. Dropping a little too heavy into the space at Lilinka’s feet, Portia stirred restlessly, until Lilinka addressed her again after a few more bites of her soup.

“Mazelinka tells me you brought someone home recently,” Lilinka said, stirring the contents of her bowl. “A homeless woman. Name was Traygan? Targen?”

“ _Teagan_ ,” Portia corrected, before dropping her gaze to her hands. “A-ah, I mean, her name’s Teagan.”

“Mhm. And where’d you come across her?”

“Living in a shack on the outskirts of Nevivon. Well, Macon was the one who found her. I’m the one who brought her home.”

Lilinka sighed and shook her head upon hearing of Macon, but said nothing on the matter of Portia. “And?”

Portia blinked at her. “A-and what?”

“What is your opinion on her?”

“I… Uh…” Portia pursed her lips as she quietly replied, “I-I… don’t know.”

“You don’t trust her?”

“I-it’s not that! I think, it’s more like, I don’t… trust myself. Teagan seems like a good person, but I don’t trust myself to provide for her. I-I feel like I made an empty promise to her, Lilinka, saying she could stay her as long as she wants.”

“Well,” Lilinka placed her now empty bowl down on the bedside table, “she can, if she wants to.”

Portia nodded her head. “Mazelinka said the same thing since she knew you’d allow it, but—”

“But what?”

“I feel like even _that’s_ not enough. I feel like I should provide more for her, Lilinka.”

Lilinka’s face crinkled in concern. “How, dear?”

“As I said before, I-I don’t know.”

Lilinka hummed in thought. “Do you want to get her a job?”

“Uh, well…”

“Make friends for her?”

“Um…”

“Secure her a home?”

“N-no,” Portia said, shaking her head. “Those are things she should do on her own…”

“Precisely.” Lilinka reached across and laid her hand comfortingly over Portia’s, which she only now realized were curled into hard fists in her lap. “Teagan is still her own person. She can do her own things. When she feels like it’s time, she’ll leave. You shouldn’t have to do those things for her, Pasha.”

Portia let out a heavy sigh. “In a haphazard way, Mazelinka kind of told me the same thing, but when I hear it from you, it makes a ton more sense.”

Lilinka chuckled. “Well, my love was never the wisest with words.”

Portia smiled. “You can say that again.”

The two talked idly of several other things; namely regarding what chores had yet to be completed, wherever Julian was (Lilinka appeared mildly upset when she heard he _still_ hadn’t returned home yet), and what would be a proper punishment for Macon. Eventually, Lilinka began to drift off, so Portia quietly bid her a good rest, and exited the room. Once back in the kitchen and the front room, she realized only Teagan was there; Mazelinka seemingly having disappeared.

The brunette blew at a spoonful of soup before giving a glance to Portia settling down next to her on the sofa. As she hurriedly tried to clear her mouth, Teagan said, “M-Mazelinka, ah— _hot!_ —M-Mazelinka said she was, mm, she was going to head to the market to pick up some things. She said you were all out of brittleleaf.”

“Right…”

Portia hadn’t the faintest clue what that supposed seasoning was, but she’d pay back Mazelinka for buying it. She remained quiet for some time as she meditated on what Lilinka said to her before feeling the weight of a curious gaze on her neck. Turning, she realized Teagan hadn’t taken her eyes off of her that entire time, prickling a blush across Portia’s face. Ever since that incident yesterday with the brunette, Portia found herself unable to settle down in her company. She tossed and turned that night before, mentally reeling from embarrassment, while Teagan remained blissfully oblivious.

“Don’t you want some soup?” Teagan asked, offering her serving, which was only halfway done. “It’s good. Really good. Mazelinka is a wonderful cook.”

“E-erm, no. No, I’m all right. I don’t have much of an appetite at the moment.”

“Oh. Are you getting sick, too?” Portia’s hackles bristled ramrod straight when Teagan slipped a hand onto her forehead. “It feels like it; your forehead is burning.”

Portia wanted to correct her and say her entire _face_ was hot, but internally rebuked herself, and shook her hand away. “I-I’m fine! I’m seriously fine, but thank you for your concern.”

Teagan hummed. “Okay,” she said, before adding, “Is this about me? Are you concerned about me?”

Portia’s lips parted before she solemnly nodded her head. “It’s nothing serious,” she lightly lied. “I, um, I’m just relieved. I didn’t think Lilinka would let you stay.”

“Really? But you seemed so sure of yourself back at the shack.”

“That’s because I really wasn’t thinking then. The only thing on my mind was getting you out of that filthy place. No person deserves to sleep in those conditions.”

“Mm, and you did surprise me with your suddenness. You weren’t suspicious at all. What if I were a criminal? Or someone with a checkered past?”

“I-I only thought about that _after_ I let you into Lilinka’s home, too. But”—her grey eyes softened when she looked at Teagan—“I don’t believe that about you, Teagan. You’re too, I don’t know, you don’t give off that vibe. I feel like I can trust you.”

Teagan smiled placidly at Portia, making her cheeks tinge red. “And that’s why I said I would never forget your kindness,” she said, “because you really are a good person, Portia.”

To be complimented like so warmed Portia’s insides. “So, uh, if it’s okay for me to pry, you really don’t remember anything?” she asked. “Nothing at all?”

Teagan shook her head. “Well, there _are_ things I do remember, but they’re only vaguely significant.”

“Like what?”

Placing down her now finished bowl of soup, Teagan tapped a finger thoughtfully on her cheek. “Let’s see… Well, I had a father. I don’t remember his name, but I remember he was a kind man. He taught me magic.”

“W-wait, magic? You’re a magician?”

Teagan’s lips drew to a small O. “Oh, I never mentioned I was?”

“No, you haven’t!” Portia almost bounced out of her skin. Magicians were a bit of a rarity nowadays, especially in places like Nevivon. She heard there was once a city-state on the edge of the town that had a famous family of magicians, but they fell to ruin after it was overtaken. “T-that’s, that’s _amazing!_ ”

Teagan blinked. “Really? I didn’t think it was that special.”

“Well, it is!” Portia’s eyes sparkled. “What can you do? Can you show me?”

“A-ah, well, I-I forgot.” Teagan drew up her brows dolefully when Portia’s enthusiasm withered. “S-sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s no problem. Really,” Portia replied. “You’re just the first magician I’ve ever met, so I maybe got a little _too_ excited.”

Teagan chuckled. “No, it was really nice. No one has ever been so interested in me before. You must really like me, Portia.”

The redhead’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she tried and failed for form words. Though she only knew her a few days, Portia couldn’t deny she had a lofty opinion of the brunette. Just as she was about to shout her protests, the door to Lilinka’s home shot open, startling the two women to silence. Mazelinka trudged in, Julian hooked over her shoulders, as sweat poured down both their brows.

“Enough talk!” she shouted. “Julian’s seriously hurt, we’ve got to help him!”


	4. Chapter 4

One day of rushed fumbling, preparing of a bed, of teary eyes and reassurances that he would be all right. Two days of rolled-up sleeves, painkillers for a hangover, ice on bruises, disinfectant on open wounds. Three days of fretting and gnawing impatience as they awaited the swelling of his jaw to go down. One day of a disappearance again, all-consuming panic, scoping out the entirety of town, only to find him nursing a drink at the local tavern to numb the pain.

All in all, it was but another week dealing with the headache known as Julian Devorak.

Portia clutched the drawn curtains between both hands before she shoved them open, bringing morning light into the pitch-dark room. The entire half became swamped in light, even making Portia wince an eye shut; it was a surprisingly sunny day despite being early autumn. Julian recoiled painfully, throwing his blanket over his head. The last thing he wanted to do was face the day, but much to his chagrin, the ball of sunshine known as his sister was there to wake him bright and early.

“Cut the crap!” she cried as her hands fisted in the blanket, giving it a hard tug. “Get up! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Ilya!”

“L-let go! Let go, Pasha!” Julian whined.

“No! Either you tell me where the _hell_ you’ve been this last week, or I’ll—I’ll—!”

“Pasha, that’s enough.” Mazelinka lingered in the doorway, hands propped to hips as she cocked her chin toward the front room. “Leave him, he’ll talk when he’s ready.”

“But!” Portia’s bottom lip trembled. “Mazelinka, he _owes_ us a reason! We were worried sick—”

“Hey, I think your anger is warranted, but”—she shifted aside to reveal a worried Teagan glancing over her shoulder—“there’s someone here who’s worried by all of the shouting. Maybe it’s best to leave things. For now.”

Portia thinned her lips, but did as she was told. She released her hold on the blanket, which Julian immediately cocooned himself in, as she trudged out of the room. Mazelinka gave the redhead’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before beckoning everyone to the front room. Portia strode passed the both of them to collapse onto the sofa, head in hands as she brimmed with frustration.

The more distance she put between Portia and her brother, the better, but it did little to assuage her sullenness. Mazelinka could tell she wanted to complain, wave fists about and curse up a storm, but knew nothing would come of it. Portia was only ever satisfied when she got her way, especially when it came to those she cared about.

In an attempt to offer some distraction, Teagan rushed to the bowl near the window, only to return a beat later with a banana. She shoved it insistently in Portia’s face, her brows drawn up dolefully as the redhead blinked at it.

“These are your favorite, right?” Teagan asked. “You mentioned they were.”

Portia cluelessly took the banana from her. “I did? When did I ever say that?”

“Three days ago, when I was helping you with the laundry. You said that Mazelinka bring these for you often, since they’re rarely sold in Nevivon.” Teagan looked desperately at Mazelinka. “They are her favorite, right? Right?”

Mazelinka dipped her head. “Since she was a girl. She’d always beg me to bring her home a bunch.”

“Huh…” Portia turned the banana about. “But why’d you give this to me, Teagan? I’m not exactly hungry at the moment…”

“Because you’re upset,” she replied. “My father always says that when someone’s upset, you should give them their favorite thing.”

“T-Teagan…”

The brunette dropped low to look up at Portia. “For the past week, you’ve been upset. I-it’s been difficult to see you dealing with, well”—she glanced in the direction of Julian’s room—“and force a smile at the same time. I know you’re only doing it to satisfy me, but I’m not satisfied at all, Portia. In fact, it hurts a lot to see you so... so… so _not_ Portia.”

Portia’s heart panged in guilt. Teagan’s sentiment was sweet, even though her feelings regarding her brother delved deeper than just plain hurt. Wiping away a tear with back of her hand, she looked to the brunette, and mustered up a genuine smile.

“Thank you,” she said, “for trying to cheer me up.”

“It’s nothing compared to the kindness you’ve shown me,” Teagan said, “but you’re welcome.”

Mazelinka smiled placidly beside them. “Well, it seems you remembered something, Teagan,” she said. “Something about your father.”

Teagan glanced up at her, shocked. “Y-you’re right,” she said, touching a finger to her lips as if astonished by her own words. “That, that had to be one of dad’s lessons.”

“A-and the banana, too!” Portia cried. “You remembered I like bananas!”

Mazelinka chuckled. “Seems whatever plonk you took on the head is getting better, huh?” she said. “Only a week and you’re remembering things. Good for you, girl.”

“Well, I know I always mention it, but it’s thanks to Portia’s kindness that I’m even getting better,” Teagan said. “She’s the one to thank the most.”

Portia reddened, which seemed to have become a commonplace thing when in Teagan’s company. It had worsened as of late; with the just the lightest of compliments, the redhead found herself consumed by the same embarrassment she felt in the bath. Launching to her feet, Portia gave a jumbled reason of, “SorryIhavetotakecareofsomethings!” to dismiss herself from the company of Teagan and Mazelinka. The brunette’s outstretched hand only caught open air when she tried to stop her, but Mazelinka said to let her go.

“It’s not just feelings for her brother she’s dealing with,” she said with a toothy grin. “So, give her some space, too.”

Teagan frowned slightly. “O-okay,” she said. “In the meantime, Mazelinka? Could you help me with something?”

“Sure, what’s wrong?”

Teagan fiddled with the long forelock that split her face in two. “My hair’s unruly, but my bangs are particularly annoying. Could you cut them for me?”

Mazelinka hummed. “I don’t know why I’d be your choice, but sure, doesn’t sound too difficult.” She ushered Teagan along into the kitchen. “Of course, you can’t get upset at me if it looks bad.”

“You’re a pirate. If you’re good with a sword, I’m sure you’re good with a pair of scissors.”

“Well, can’t argue with that kind of logic, now can I?”

Pulling up a stool, Mazelinka instructed the brunette to sit. She moistened Teagan’s front half of hair before carding fingers through it in place of a comb. Teagan would’ve voiced some hesitance had she not been distracted by her thoughts. She pipped up just as Mazelinka leveled the scissors near her brow, chopping off a small chunk.

“Oi!” Mazelinka warned. “Careful! I nearly took your eye out.”

“That’s okay, that’s okay,” Teagan said, causing Mazelinka to make a face because it clearly wasn’t. However, the pirate’s quizzical look when breezily ignored. “But I’ve just been thinking and… Portia. She’s the type of person who wants to take care of everyone, right?”

Mazelinka tilted her head. “You’re not wrong, but why the sudden thought?”

“I’ve been trying to figure her out,” Teagan said. “Specifically, why she was so eager to help me. It’s not something a normal person would do, right?”

“Well, if it wasn’t obvious to you by now, Pasha isn’t exactly “normal.””

“Oh, I’m aware,” Teagan said, smiling widely. “I’m not either, which is why we get along so well. But I digress. I just want to understand her more, but I still can’t wrap my head around it. _Why_ is she so nice?”

“Well, I can’t quite put it into words myself, but that girl loves people,” Mazelinka said, combing down Teagan’s bangs again and cutting off another chunk. “Her love for them is powerful, Teagan. Once she cares, she wants to do everything for them. You’re a ripe example of that.”

Teagan blinked. “What do you mean? I-I never asked her for more than what she’s offered.”

“Mm, let me put it this way: Pasha’s heart is big and wide, her love deep and bottomless. When she cares for someone, it’s like drowning at sea, but for Portia—it’s the only way she knows how her to love, even if she means well.”

“So, she’s someone who smothers? Is that a good way to put it?”

“A bit, yes.” Mazelinka clipped a neat line. “Though she knows her limits. She’ll step back if she’s coming on too strong.”

Teagan hummed in thought, nodding her head. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

“Oh? You remember something about yourself?”

“Kind of.” Teagan’s silence was punctuated by the sound of the scissors again. “I think I cared for my dad in the same way. Loving him with my everything. Though what type of person he was like… that I can’t remember.”

“Something’s better than nothing,” Mazelinka said. Finishing the last bit of hair to clip, she brushed the remnants from Teagan’s person, then motioned her to look into the palm-sized mirror she pulled from her pocket. “How’s that look? Good enough for you?”

Teagan studied her reflection, turning about to clip away some loose strands Mazelinka missed during their exchange. Mazelinka had opted for a simple fringe cut that settled on her brow. Teagan approved of the look despite how it tickled every time she made a face. It would take a bit for her to get used to.

“Yes, this looks wonderful, thank you,” Teagan said. “Definitely better than what I had before.”

“Undoubtedly. The first time I saw you, I thought you were a stray Pasha brought home.”

Teagan laughed. “She does that often?”

“When she was a girl, yes. Pasha just loved pets. Once, it got so bad, we had _at least_ twenty animals running around this small home. In the end, we had to get rid of them, and god, did that girl bawl. Lilinka and I thought she grew out of the habit as she got older, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Since she brought a human home?”

Mazelinka cracked a toothy grin. “Precisely, though you’re not as bad as half the animals she promised to take care of.”

Teagan snorted behind her hand. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“You don’t have to! I’ll tell you anyhow: Those damn things would make a mess everywhere—clawing up furniture, chewing up shoes, shitting and pissing like they owned the place. It was _awful._ And in the middle of the chaos, Portia would clutch hands to her chest, and coo at how cute everything was being. But when Lilinka made her take responsibility? That was different story entirely.” Mazelinka clicked her tongue. “No wonder she’s stressed over what to do with you.”

Teagan blinked at her. “Stressed? Why might I be the cause of stress? I-if I’ve done something to worry Portia—”

“No, dear. You’re fine. It’s simply the worries of someone who cares too much,” Mazelinka said.

“I see…” Teagan furrowed her brow in thought as she idly brushed at the loose strands of hair flecked across her person. “Now I find myself worrying about _her_. Is that odd?”

Mazelinka chuckled, reaching forward to give the brunette’s shoulder a squeeze. “Not at all, not at all,” she reassured her. “It’s just the unfortunate outcome of coming to care for someone—as they worry about you, you worry about them. Simple as that.”

“Huh… You sound as if you are well-acquainted with this feeling, Mazelinka.”

“More than I’d like to admit.” Teagan followed the pirate’s line of sight pinned to Lilinka’s door. The color in her eyes seemed to glaze over; faded by some faraway thought. “When you care for someone to the point their life means more than you own, you sometimes do stupid things. Rush to make sure they’re okay. That’s just a matter-of-fact truth. For Pasha, well, she rushes in too quickly. It’s just the Devorak way to never thinking before acting.”

Teagan flashed Mazelinka a strained smile, patting her arm sympathetically. “Advice I will remember,” she returned. “Especially at the behest of Portia.”


End file.
